


we can never go back

by KaelsMiscellany



Series: absolve your blood stained honor [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Cats, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Slow Burn Romance, Small Towns, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-14 19:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16046675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany/pseuds/KaelsMiscellany
Summary: Jason's goals at the moment are pretty simple: get Cass through her detox without her killing anyone or hurting herself and keep Damian from running away and trying to gethimselfkilled. Maybe if he's lucky by the time he's done both the three of them'll be able to ride in like the goddamn cavalry and deal with Slade.But since when has Jason beenthatlucky?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all remember when I was like 'I don't know when I'll be done w/ part two. It's also gonna be longer'? (well alright that last part is true...) Because fun fact, instead of writing _any_ Jason Pond, I've been working on _this_. Which I'm sure pleases y'all as punch.
> 
> Title comes from "Fake It" by Bastille.

Damian _should_ be doing his damndest to leave Todd and Cain behind, should be making his way back to the League and killing Slade with his bare hands.

Instead he’s been riding in a beat up pickup truck and staying in mediocre hotels the past four days since they all arrived in the United States.

He couldn’t say why exactly he’s still here instead of avenging his mother as he should—freeing her, because she’s not dead, she _can’t be_. Except that Todd never seems to sleep and Cain always seems to know when he’s planning on escaping.

“Almost there,” Todd announces to everyone as they pass through Washington into Oregon. “Few more hours.”

“That’s not almost,” Damian snipes back.

Todd rolls his eyes and Cain hums briefly along to the staticky music coming from the radio. Damian knows they’re doing it on purpose and it annoys him. Which means he get to be annoying to them right back. Their seeming indifference to what happened last week gives him more than enough right, even without them ignoring him the way they do.

Save for the music and the occasional burst of news and traffic the cab falls back into quiet. Damian leans his forehead against the window glass and watches grasslands turn into forest turn back into grassland. He’ll give Cain and Todd this, the place they picked as their safe house is in the middle of nowhere.

Instead of stopping for lunch like usual—not that there’s much in the way of pickings after they got off the interstate—they drive on. They must be antsy to get there and settle in, Damian’s just glad it’ll give him a better chance of getting away. Settling in means letting your guard down.

There’s a sign on the edge of town welcoming them to Joseph, Oregon pop. 1,054—it’s followed by a sign asking them not to drive like hell through it. Damian frowns at the first sign, he doesn’t understand why they picked here, but the smallness of it must have something to do with it.

A few blocks down main street Todd pulls them into the parking lot of what has to be the only grocery store in town. “There’s non-perishables at the safe house, but I think we can all agree that we don’t want to subsist on pasta and canned fruit alone.” Damian doesn’t say anything but he begrudgingly agrees.

Ten minutes into shopping Damian manages to extract himself from Todd, only to be caught by Cain as he heads towards the door. “Come on baby bro,” right, the papers Todd gave them say she and him are siblings. “Know it’s boring but it’ll be done faster if you help.” She doesn’t try to give one of her fake-looking smiles but her gaze is intent.

Damian grinds his teeth but follows her. “We should be going after Slade,” Damian hisses as she puts apples in the cart.

“If we did that now,” even knowing the cause her blandness is frightening in a way. “We would lose. I need to recover first if we want to beat him.” Damian scoffs, but she only gives him a flat look. “We know you were listening in when I told Jason about it.”

“How?” Damian stiffens. He’s been trained since birth to be an assassin, and to inherit his father’s job. Failure in his lessons was never accepted. If they know he knows than he doesn’t need to bother about not pretending. “I know it makes you stronger, so it seems to be that it would be far better to go after him while it’s still in you.” None of this ‘detoxing’ he’d heard them talking about on the flight from Krakow to Chicago.

Cain shrugs. “I could read it in your body, Jason said it was your breathing that gave it away for him.” They’re in frozen foods now, Cain tossing in bags of peas and corn. “I might be stronger, but I’m easier to control,” she counters. “If we went after him now he’d likely be able to take control again.” Her expression hardens. “I’m not going to let anyone else control me ever again.” Then it’s gone. “Come on, Jason’s probably waiting for us at the checkout.”

Todd isn’t, but he does arrive a minute or so after them. “So this is where you got to brat,” there’s an easy smile on Todd’s face as he ducks down to give Cain a kiss on the cheek. More theater and play-acting.

Damian glare daggers at him, but as they get to a cashier Cain puts her hand between his shoulder blades—the fact that she _dares_ to touch him is galling in and of itself—and guides him towards the end of the belt. “Help me pack,” it sounds like a request, but Damian can read between the lines.

“So you folks camping down at the stake park or just passing through?” The white woman is middle aged and clearly doesn’t know when to not stick her nose in someone else’s business.

Sickeningly Todd plays along. “Actually we’re moving in, sort of. Dad owns a ranch out on Old Ski Run Road, thought it’d be nice for the three of us to get away for the summer.”

“Oh! The old McMannus farm.” She smiles, the only good thing is that her hands can seemingly move independent of her mouth and are still checking out items. “I used to date Daryl, the former owner, back in high school. Good to know there’ll be folks living there again. Don’t get many people moving in these days.”

“It’s only for the summer.” Todd leans towards the woman a little. Cain elbows Damian and with a frown he starts to help her bag things. “Sarah and Luke’s parents just died last month. I thought I’d be an excellent boyfriend and just get them away from everything for a while. Let them work through it.”

The woman turns to look at Damian and Cain, making a sort of clucking noise Damian thinks is supposed to be sympathetic. “Poor dears, well you couldn’t have picked a better place to get back up on your feet.”

Damian starts to sneer, but Cain elbows him again, gritting his teeth he pulls it in. Todd’s story is asinine and trite, but he’ll let the man tell it.

“Do you know where the hardware store is?” Todd thankfully distracts the woman before she can notice Damian’s disgust. “Dad’d said we could stay, long as I fix whatever needs fixing.”

“Just three blocks down Main dearie. Your total’s 145.28.”

Todd pays and they scoop all the bags up and take them to the truck. Damian managing to keep his outburst in until they’re driving to the house. “Why did you tell her that sob story Todd? It wasn’t any of her business.”

“If that woman isn’t part of gossip central in this town I’ll eat a bullet,” Todd responds easily. “Needed a good cover and people’ll forgive a lot of shit if they know you’re grieving. Which’ll give us some leeway with Cass’ outbursts. And your general assholishness.”

Damian bristles, but holds his tongue. He’ll get out of this soon enough, then he won’t have to worry about this ridiculous chicannary.

The house, when they finally get to it, is two stories and plain looking. There are packages on the front porch and Damian frowns at them. Todd it seems is expecting them if his nod is anything to go by.

He gets roped into helping unload groceries, relieved that this place has electricity and running water—for all Damian’d known the place could’ve been dilapidated and had an outhouse. Then sticks around when Cain and Todd open the packages.

Two sets of manacles, a gag, heavy duty locks, and chains.

Somehow that, along with the physicality of the items, makes it more _real_. Not that Damian thinks all of it is necessary. “You really think she’ll be that dangerous?” Damian knows Cain is supposedly the best fighter in the world, even his mother agreed with that, but this all seems overkill.

Cain gives a placid shrug. “Once I’m done with the lithium, there won’t be anything holding back the rages. Slade’s daughter used to be on this stuff too, she plucked out her own eye in a rage. This way neither of you gets hurt.”

“Wrists,” Todd says as he opens up the manacles.

It’s...strange to watch the two of them as they test the manacles and debate what to pad them with—Damian decides not to point out manacles shouldn’t be _comfortable_. There’s an ease between them that he doesn’t understand. In fact as they talk quietly between them about where Cain should be locked up when she’s in a rage Damian finds himself uncomfortable listening and watching.

He wanders from the dining table over to the living room, a TV—he knows what they are but he’s never actually seen on in real life until now—takes up a good chunk of a wall. The DVDs Todd had bought at the store are lying on the coffee table—Back to the Future, Clue, Labyrinth, Terminator, and Pirates of the Caribbean. Damian huffs and finally can’t hold his question in anymore. “Who’s house is this really?” Todd’s ‘story’ had mentioned the owner being Todd’s father, but Damian knows all about Todd—the rest of _his_ father’s little ‘family’ too—his father couldn’t buy a house if his life depended on it.

Todd and Cain both look up and Todd shrugs. “I wasn’t lying when I said it was my dad,” there’s an odd note to Todd’s voice. “Bruce owns a lot of houses all over the country, keeps them as safe houses and the like. Doubt he’ll even notice us living in this one.”

Damian knows father adopted Todd, and Grayson, and Drake, but he doesn’t exactly like the reminder. _He_ should be the only one who matters. Yet Todd, and even Cain, can lay claim to something Damian can’t. They’ve both met Bruce Wayne. _Lived_ with him even.

Perhaps if Damian were another person this would be the point where he’d tell them who his father is. However he’s not a different person, so he doesn’t. Instead huffing. “I’m going to pick out a bedroom.”

“Jason and I get the master,” Cain calls to him. Sharing a bedroom seems a bit much for a lie they don’t have to sell in private, but Damian decides it’s not his business.

“Also think of what toppings you want on your pizza.” Todd adds.

Damian frowns and turns around halfway up the stairs. “What the hell’s pizza?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like before I'll be posting a chapter a day, so buckle in binches.
> 
> Also I totally forgot to mention at the end of the last one that I have [a JayCass fanmix on Spotify.](https://open.spotify.com/user/kaelstrom3/playlist/4zEukFojhlDTfPzRD5Ieik?si=8uF3h8j8Tjej1zDKMIoevg) ~~(I also have[a ko-fi](http://ko-fi.com/kaelsmiscellany) if you're that sort of person...)~~


	2. Chapter 2

Later that night, turns out pizza really isn’t Damian’s thing and it baffles Jason, he and Cass are curled up together in bed. It’s...not disconcerting but it makes him feel just that little bit off now that he knows what’s really up with her. “So, how soon do you think Damian’s gonna try and run away?” Jason’s all for distracting the both of them right now.

Cass’ huff spreads across his collarbone. “Talia’s his mother, it’s no surprise he wants to avenge her.”

“Yeah.” Jason’d like to hope Talia’s still alive, but he’s a realist enough to know that Slade wouldn’t leave her alive if given the chance. Not if Slade really does want to lead the League. “Don’t think he’s exactly old enough to start learning the value of patience though.” Even with Damian’s training he hadn’t exactly wanted for anything, having to _wait_ is clearly an alien idea to the boy.

“We’ve got time,” Cass spreads a hand over his chest. “Something else is bothering you.”

Now Jason’s the one who huffs. “Nothing gets past you,” his sarcasm earns him a pinch and a flat look. “Fine. It’s just...are you really okay with this?” He doesn’t even know what _this_ is. Sure they almost had sex, and he trusts her, and he’s more than willing to fake a relationship for everyone else. Other than that? “We don’t actually have to share a room.” They’d had to when traveling out of necessity, but now that they’re _here_ it’s just…

Her naked body—and if she’s willing to ignore the way he responds to that then so is he—shifts closer and she uses him to push herself up a little more. Her eyes meeting him. “I know it makes you uncomfortable,” hell yeah it does. He’d hated keeping her on lithium while they’d been traveling, even knowing it’d mean they drew less attention to themselves. Reminds him too much of, well things he doesn’t want to think about. “But I need to know if something happens in the night it’ll get noticed sooner rather than later.”

“I know,” it comes out half a gusty sigh.

Her head lowers again, hair tickling his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Hesitantly one of his arms wraps around her, he’s gotten used to the feel of her scarred back, but like seemingly everything else he doesn’t like it. Yet there’s something heartening about someone being more fucked up than him and...making it out not just okay, but _good_. Maybe his own future doesn’t have to be as bleak as he thinks it’ll be.

-

Jason makes breakfast in the morning, cooking isn’t something he’s done in a long while now. It’s just as satisfying as he remembers it being though.

Damian glowers at the pancakes, and Jason has a feeling there’s going to be lots of moments like this. “Eat up kiddo.” Cass’ already started to dig into her own pancakes and eggs, all of them slathered in syrup. Jason demonstrates by scooping up some of his own eggs and shoving them in his mouth—mmmm, tabasco sauce and eggs.

“This is not breakfast food,” Damian declares as he prods at his pile of pancakes. After a second he does eat the eggs however, so that’s something. Jason never had the choice about whether to be a picky eater or not, so he’s kinda frustrated with Damian over the whole thing.

Under the table Cass’ foot hooks around his calf, he huffs, but holds off on speaking. She pushes the butter and marmalade towards Damian. “Pancakes are good good with things on them.”

The expression on Damian’s face is dubious, but he tries it, which is all that Jason can ask for right now. “Alright,” he sounds surprised. “That’s not the worst thing.”

Jason holds off on speaking about that too. Instead eating some of his own pancakes and plotting out his day. “I’m gonna have to head down to the hardware store today to get stuff to finish setting up.” They’ve got a few days leeway, hopefully, since Cass can’t go cold turkey on lithium. It’s better to be fully prepared for when she’s just on the serum on the other hand.

“Damian and I can set up the dojo and do some sparring.” Cass manages a halfway decent smile.

The big thing though is the way Damian looks utterly _pleased_ by the idea. Cass clearly knows how to get Damian to cooperate better than Jason does. “It will be a learning experience for you Cain, I’m sure.” It’s kinda cute how Damian tries to cover up his excitement with haughtiness.

Cass inclines her head. "We'll see. Hand to hand to start out with," her voice suggests that's not up for debate. "Maybe in a day or two we can do swords."

Again Damian tries to hide his pleasure, but it doesn't work as well the second time. "That's acceptable."

Who knows, maybe they'll survive the next three months without killing each other.

-

Cass stretches as she makes her way to the former study turned dojo. It doesn’t have mats or anything regarding other safety measures, but it’s empty now. She’s sure Damian would’ve frowned upon mats and the like anyways.

“I hope you’re ready.” Damian’s definitely inherited the al Ghul arrogance.

If she were Jason she’d roll her eyes at the statement. As it stands she shifts into an open position. “If you can beat me in a match I’ll let you leave.” It’s a challenge she makes only because she knows it’s impossible. It’ll have the added bonus, hopefully, of Damian trying to improve his skills and keep his escapes to a minimum.

Green eyes narrow, but the rest of him shows no indication that he doubts her offer. “I accept.” He sinks a little lower a few feet away, his attack clear to her eyes.

His punch aims for her solar plexus, but she blocks grabbing his wrist in the same action. With ease she twists it behind him, shifting it just right so that if he tries to struggle his shoulder will dislocate. “One.” She lets go.

He whirls around, attempting to strike her again, but she’s danced out of the way. He dashes towards her and she turns enough to miss his kick, like his wrist she grabs his ankle and jerks. He hits the floor with a _thump_. “Two.”

Snarling he pulls himself up. “Fight me Cain.”

Usually she wouldn’t respond to that, but this is sparring, no matter how much Damian thinks it’s a real fight, and he needs the lesson. “Talking in a fight means you’ve lost. Talking means thinking. Don’t _think_ in a fight. _Act_.” He tenses for an attack and she darts in, hitting him in the chest. “Three.”

Damian bares his teeth, but doesn’t say anything. Good, maybe he’s still young enough to _learn_.

This time he doesn’t attack outright, the two of them turning with each other. His forms have been decent, but still needs training. Perhaps it’s a good thing they’re stuck together, his skillset’s more in line with her own than Jason is. Damian would probably balk at her considering him her student, but she does it anyways.

“Were you taught to kill or disable?” She’s got a pretty good idea which it is, but best to be certain.

“Kill,” he answers as his body tenses. He’s agile enough that he gets close, but again she slaps his punch and kick away.

“Then here’s how you disable an opponent up close…”

-

When Jason gets back he’s not surprised to see Damian pouting on the couch, Cass is making herself a smoothie in the kitchen and even if she doesn’t have her emotions back there’s a pleased air about her. “Sparring go well?” He sets his bags on the table, pulling out tools and the like from them.

“Cain cheats,” Damian’s clearly grumpy about it.

All Jason’s gonna give him in commiseration is a snort though. “Duh, no such thing as a fair fight when you get down to it.” Jason’s also not exactly surprised Damian’s teachers didn’t teach _him_ how to cheat, easier to teach someone to kill. “Gonna have to start learning that real quick if you want to get Slade.”

“Tomorrow,” Cass says before turning the blender on.

It’s probably more of a good thing than bad that Cass has something to focus on, and it’ll do Damian good too. Nodding Jason scoops up the three inch screws, the power drill, and the stud finder he’d bought, taking them to the other room they’d emptied yesterday.

Technically the first safe house rule is that you don’t make changes, they need to stay fairly neutral so the next person who stays feels comfortable. Jason’s sure this is a pretty damn good exception. Marking out the studs he stares at the walls for a moment, doing his best to figure out the best placement for the chains.

Once he’s got that sorted out it’s fairly quick work getting them in. He’s not exactly excited for the first time they’ve got to use them, but knows it’s better than letting Cass go loose.

-

Jason tries not to be too annoyed by Damian watching him intently as he makes dinner. In the end though he can’t quite manage it. “What?” He snaps as he adds sausage to his onions and garlic.

“Where did a street rat like you learn to cook?” For a change Damian doesn’t sound _too_ haughty, only mostly.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t get to Jason. Closing his eyes he breathes out slowly through his teeth. Damian already has to know, Talia’d implied she’d told him the first time Jason and the brat’d met, so why the hell he’s asking is beyond Jason. “Alfred taught me.” Picking up the pot he tosses everything with a flick of his wrist.

Damian harumphs, a sound Jason never expected to hear from an actual _child_ , but falls quiet. For a few minutes at least.

He’s adding in the tomato mixture to everything else when the next question comes. “So you were more the help than anything else?”

More deep breaths—Jason should see about putting in a heavy bag in the ‘dojo’ because hitting Damian would be wrong. Without turning around he sticks his hand behind his back and flips Damian off. “Nothing wrong with learning how to look out for yourself you little shit. And chicks dig a guy who can cook.” Although in that regard Jason’d never really gotten a chance to _use_ it. Dying at fourteen tends to do that. “If you don’t have anything helpful or nice to say Damian you can shut the fuck up.”

The stairs creak—Jason’d debated on whether or not to fix it before deciding it’d be better not to—as Cass comes back down from her shower. She must read something in the both of them because she moves over next to Damian. “Don’t pick fights. We have to learn to tolerate each other, as much as you might hate that.”

Jason focuses intently on stirring, waiting for the risotto to finish absorbing the tomato mix before adding more. He gets somewhat of a lucky break thanks to a knock on the door.

All three of them pause for a moment, it could be an assassin—a fairly smart one even in Jason’s book—but it also might just be a local trying to be neighborly. He and Cass share a look and she gets up to open the door.

“Hi!” The woman on the other side of the door is plump, two or so inches taller than Cass, skin a few shades lighter than Damian’s, with brown hair pulled into a tight braid. “I’m Lori Sutherlund, my husband Larry and I live just up the road. Thought I’d stop by and give you some of my famous chocolate chip banana bars. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Her smile is broad, but Jason can see her eyes flicking about, curious about them.

The smile Cass gives in return in decent. “Sarah Wen,” she responds. “Jace is still making dinner, so you’re not interrupting anything at all.” Reaching out she grabs the container of banana bars. “Thank you for the bars, though you didn’t need to go through the trouble.” After all ‘just up the road’ is a mile or so away, being fairly distant from almost everyone was half the reason he and Cass’d agreed on this safe house.

“Oh it was no trouble at all,” she laughs. “I do a nightly bike ride around the area, so you’re right in my path.” Good to know. “Wonderful meeting you all,” her eyes crinkle as her smile grows. “Talk to you later I’m sure.”

“Goodbye.” Cass’ smile drops the moment she closes the door.

She’s not the only one who relaxes, none of them mentioning the other’s sighs of relief.

-

Cass wakes in the middle of the night crying.

It’s loud and wet and, as Steph would have called it, a good ugly cry. She quickly buries her face in her pillow, she doesn’t seem to have woken Jason up yet, but best to be safe.

She gets _why_ she’s crying—so many people dead because of her, so many horrible things she’s done in the past two years, mourning Kon. Yet like when she and Jason’d tried to have sex there’s a disconnect between what her body’s doing and how her mind...feels. She hates it even more than she did last time.

However it’s something of a good sign. She’s been off lithium for a little over a week now, and even though it’s the serum that does the lion’s share of the work, things are starting to work themselves out.

Even though she’s not looking she can feel Jason shift next to her. The heat of him shifting closer and gathering her close. “Hey.” She buries her face in his shoulder and clings.


	3. Chapter 3

Jason wakes up finding it hard to breath.

Deprived of oxygen it takes his mind far too many seconds to process that and open his eyes. But when he _can_ see, it’s to find out Cass is atop him, fingers tightening and pressing down on his throat. A manic glint in her eye.

Drawing up what energy he can Jason punches her in the chest.

Cass gives a yelping-shriek, but doesn’t let go. Her grip _does_ loosen on the other hand. Enough for him to get his arms in and break her hold completely. He makes himself breath slow as he flips them around, using his weight to pin her to the bed. “Damian!” He bellows.

He’d do this on his own if he could, but Cass is deep in it, if he lets go she’s just going to attack. Damnit, them sharing a bed is supposed to keep this from happening. Why didn’t she wake him when it started? Granted, they’d done so well the first two times this week, something was bound to start going wrong.

Damian finally stumbles in, angry at being woken up at who knows what hour. He also doesn’t say anything, crouching at the edge of the bed and pulling out the manacles. It takes some work but together they get them on Cass. “Thanks Damian.”

As a glower, it fails thanks to a yawn. “You’re making that grits, biscuits, and gravy for breakfast again.” There’s some heat to it, but Jason can live with that.

“Fine,” he agrees as he scoops Cass’ struggling form up. As he carries her down the stairs he hears Damian’s door close.

After two weeks he’s old hat at getting her chained in. Cass snarls and tries to bite him, but he just uses it as a chance to put the gag in. Leaving her he goes to the table they’ve got set up, the sounds of her chains rattling the accompanying him writing everything down. 2:58, Jesus. He guesstimates it to have been around 2:53 when he’d woken up, who knows how long she’d been in the rage before then. _Attempted strangulation_ , he also writes. Cass is going to hate herself when she comes out of it, but it could’ve been worse.

-

After three weeks now Damian’s used to Cain flying into rages, or other outbursts of emotion. Yet something in him is _tired_ of it. They seem to wear him out, if not as much as they do Cain. How Todd can stand them so well is moderately impressive.

It’s however the second one today.

Feeling strangely calm Damian goes up to his room, packs a small bag, and leaves.

It’ll take him an hour or so walking but he should be able to make it to Joseph’s airport, steal a plane to get him to a bigger city—Portland would be closest. Find out the League hub there and convince them to take him to Slade.

Easy. He should be able to do it in his sleep.

After fifteen or so minutes of walking he hears sounds of steps approaching. Damian makes himself relax, as far as whomever it is is concerned Damian’s got every right to be walking too. Act like he belongs and there won’t be any questions.

It’s a man, heavyset with muscle, white skin, red hair, and carrying a burlap bag.

A burlap bag that’s moving—Damian hadn’t been sure of it as first, but now that he’s closer it’s definitely moving. Curious, but Damian doesn’t exactly concern himself with it, not until he hears tiny mewls coming from the bag.

A waste of time, the longer he lingers in Joseph the more chance Todd has of finding him when he realizes Damian’s left. Yet Damian finds himself stopping, counting out a minute, then following the man.

Follows him all the way to the lake a mile away.

Damian doesn’t let himself think before getting closer. The man lifts up the bag. “Hey!”

The man turns around as Damian barrels towards him.

-

Jason _should_ be, well, not _relaxing_ , but certainly taking it a little easy after he’s locked Cass up again. Gingerly he feels at his side as he storms through the house, definitely bruises.

But no. Damian had to...fucking run away like the fucking brat he was and fucking damn it. Snarling Jason snatches up his keys. It’s only been about twenty minutes, the demon brat can’t have gone that far.

Airport was the most likely destination, the Greyhound station wouldn’t sell Damian a ticket, and stealing a car was likely to draw too much attention. Granted so did stealing a plane, but if you did it right it would take longer to report, and by then you’d already be in the wind. So, get to the airport, find Damian, possibly yell at him for giving Jason more stress than he wants. If Jason works it right maybe he can guilt Damian into feeling bad about it. Talia’d asked Jason to look after Damian after all, and the fucking brat apparently didn’t think that was worth remembering.

A part of him winces when he yanks the front door open hard enough that the doorknob bangs into the wall. He’ll fucking fix it later. Storming out towards the car he stops, blinking to make sure he’s not imagining things.

Damian, walking back down the driveway, something in his arms.

It’s one of those heavy duty burlap bags as it turns out, one with the sides rolled down enough to reveal... “What the fuck?”

Jason’s outburst has Damian looking up sharply, it’s not exactly contrition on the boy’s face, but there’s definitely a shade of guilt. A first for Damian, Jason’s sure. “I was...going out for a walk and came across a man carrying this bag, I followed him and…” Damian’s face tightens. “He was going to _drown_ them.” Well hot damn, Damian could be angry about things decent people were angry about. “I stopped him,” Jason dearly hopes there won’t be a police report to deal with. “I want to keep them.”

The five kittens _are_ pretty damn cute, also _very_ tiny.

Jason’s anger doesn’t exactly fade away, but he forces it back; because Damian didn’t have to come back, but he did. Which is an improvement from a month ago. “Come on.” Good thing he’s already got his keys.

Damian follows him to the truck and starts with he tosses his phone at him. “Find a vet.”

“I said I want to keep them,” Damian grits out.

The truck’s seen enough abuse that it barely even hiccups when Jason nearly yanks the shift stick out when putting it in drive. “We’re keeping the damn kittens Damian, but I don’t know the first thing about taking care of them, and I doubt you do either. So we’re seeing a damn vet.”

It gets some surprised quiet out of the boy, only broken by him reading out directions.

An hour later the vet technician leaves the room they’d been led to with a bewildered look on his face, Damian’s got two of the cats on his lap—a calico and one that’s a gray tabby—and is cooing at them. Jason pinches the bridge of his nose to stop the headache about to form. This is _not_ what he signed up for.

Thirty minutes after that they leave the vet’s with five mostly healthy kittens, two hundred dollars worth of pet supplies, and another appointment in two weeks.

Cass is gonna love this.

-

Cass should be watching The Great British Bake-off—they’d discovered it by accident and she’d sort of fallen in love with how low-stakes, as Jason put it, it was—instead her focus is on the ice pack taped to Jason’s shoulder. It helps that it’s right in her field of vision, him lying on his stomach and her atop him like a blanket.

She knows Jason doesn’t blame her for the injuries she gives him when they miss the signs—this time she’d dislocated his shoulder—but that doesn’t stop the guilt. She’d forgotten how sharp guilt was, how insidious. Not even the frothiest of low-stakes media can distract her from it.

A tiny mewl sounds from the arm of the couch and she and Jason tilt their heads enough to see Desdemona, the calico, and Alexander, the gray tabby—even she’d been amused by the names Damian had chosen for his kittens—scoping them out.

Jason huffs, but turns his attention back to the show—the other upside of watching it is that Jason finds the recipes and _makes_ the ones that look really good. It’s a good thing Cass needs the calories. Cass makes a faint clicking noise and attempts to gesture the kittens closer. Alex seems content to stay where he is, but Des comes closer. Jason making faces when the kitten’s claws dug in a little.

Des settles in when Cass pulls her closer, her motor-esque purr starting up. “I’m glad we kept the kittens.” She has some memories of Ace, but dogs as a whole had never really been her thing. A small smile crosses her face as she remembers the time she and Tim’d caught Bruce at Selina’s, a cat curled on top of his head like a hat.

Nevermind that the kittens had also wrought their magic on Damian himself. In the week since the kittens had arrived Damian hadn’t even once tried to leave. Jason hasn’t brought it up, and neither has she, perhaps afraid that mentioning it will put the idea back in Damian’s head. The less stress Jason has to deal with the better in her book at the moment.

The thought has her blinking back tears and Cass does her best to bury her face in Des. “Thank you, Jason.”

He shifts beneath her, the play of muscles moving against her soothing in a way. “Yeah,” he sounds a little choked up himself. “It’s no problem.”

-

Damian sits on the back porch of the house and sketches. Like many things it’s a talent he’s kept hidden for now. Yet with Cain asleep upstairs—her rages have shifted towards late afternoons and nights these days—and Todd out grocery shopping, he’s got a rare opportunity to draw more than he can see out his bedroom window.

The kittens provide good subjects. Lady Macbeth—white with a dark brown sock and tail—and Lucien—an orange tabby—are spread out in the dried out grass, happily soaking up sun. Alexander’s exploring, occasionally trying to catch bugs and failing. Desdemona’s followed in the footsteps of Lady Macbeth and Lucien, except she’s curled up in a patch of sun on the porch. Just to be contrary to the rest of her siblings Ophelia’s—also white, but with far more brown splotches—in his lap, her yellow-green eyes watching the stick of charcoal as he moves it across the page. Occasionally she’ll reach a paw out and touch it, sniffing at what flakes off onto her paw.

She does it again, with two paws this time. “Stop that,” he huffs. Shifting slightly to upset her precarious balance. She adjusts and _murrs_ at him, clearly unhappy that he moved at all. “Don’t attack my art supplies,” he explains patiently. Today it was the charcoal, but the other day it’d been the end of a colored pencil and she’d chewed it with all the enthusiasm her baby teeth could muster.

It’s only been a week and he still can’t quite believe this isn’t a test or trap of some sort. Mother never would’ve let him keep pets, no matter how politely he asked, or how well he argued his case. Here he is on the other hand with _five_ kittens and he hasn’t once been asked to...harm them. He _has_ been asked to move them quiet frequently, and to clean up after them when they missed the litter box—but he does it because they’re _his_ —but Cain and Todd seem just as pleased by the kittens as he is.

He hums a bit of Polovtsian Dances as he shades in Desdemona’s darker patches.

“Wow that’s really good.”

It takes all of Damian’s assassin training not to jump out of his seat at Todd’s voice. Cain he knows can move like a ghost, but Todd’s so hulking that moving quietly should be impossible. “I didn’t hear you come back.” He _should_ have been able to hear the truck, it was obvious enough, yet it’d somehow passed under his radar.

Todd walks over to lean on the railing, he’s careful to avoid Desdemona, but his walking still wakes her up. She stretches and trots up to Todd, scaling his jeans with ease. Todd sighs and scoops her up before she can start in on climbing his shirt. “Truck broke down about a block from the store, had to get it towed, then waited around for them to tell me what was wrong with it.” He absently scratches under Desdemona’s chin. “They said it was an easy fix and it should be done by tomorrow.” He shrugs. “Walked home.” Todd’s head turned so he was looking at Damian—and as loathed as he was to admit it Damian’s fingers itch to draw it. “Didn’t know you were an artist.”

“There are many things you don’t know about me Todd,” he huffs. Like he’d tell the help everything about himself. “Because it’s none of your business.”

Todd rolls his eyes. “Don’t see why you’ve hidden it, you’re pretty good.” Of course Damian’s good, even in the arts he’d been taught to excel. “Could also probably pick up more supplies for you if you’re running low.”

It’s a tantalizing offer, because he _is_ running out of pages in this sketchbook, yet he refuses to admit it. “If you want to I won’t stop you Todd,” he punctuates it with a haughty sniff. “I doubt any of the supplies here will be up to my standards.”

Blue eyes stare at him intently for longer than Damian is comfortable with. Shrugging Todd moves away from the railing and back towards the door. “Was gonna make cream puffs, any requests?”

“Matcha?” Damian’s not pleased that he answers without thinking, or that there’s a hopeful note in his voice. Before Todd had started baking Damian’d disliked sweets, but it seems that they weren’t the right kinds of sweets. Mother would be displeased, even if they were, as Todd called them, savory-sweets.

“Yeah, I’ll make matcha.” Even without turning around Damian knows Todd has that baffling smile on his face. “Thinking about lavender and lemon curd too.”

“Acceptable,” Damian replies.

Todd doesn’t reply, but this time Damian can hear the older man’s tread and the back door closing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean we all knew Damian'd start acquiring pets eventually


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention at the end of last chapter that yes, all of Damian's cats (except for Alexander) are named after Shakespeare characters. It seemed fitting considering how he came to name Titus in canon.

Cass dodges as she and Damian spar. It’s been too long in her book and she feels like she owes him some training. Helps that it’s good for her too. Even with sparring being as scattered as it is—although Jason’s admitted sometimes he and Damian spar—Damian’s improved since they started almost two months ago. It brings up a warm well of pride in her.

However with this perhaps being the only chance they’ll have to talk in private she needs to take advantage of it. “I need your help.” She sends her foot towards his knee, noting his grimace when she lightly taps it.

“With what?” Displeasure thrums through Damian. If she had to guess he’d think that after two months he’d be able to beat her at least once. It will take him a lot longer if that’s the standard he’s set his skills to. Yet she can’t exactly fault him on it, her own standards have always been exacting.

They break apart and Cass steps out of the ring to take a few swigs of water—Jason gets unhappy when she doesn’t take care of herself. Damian, unfortunately, will tell on her if she doesn’t. “Jason’s birthday is next week, I want to surprise him with something.”

Damian blinks at her, seemingly baffled by this. “You do know about birthdays right?” She hadn’t for the longest time. Babs’d been the first to bring it up, but she’d only picked a date when Bruce’d filled the adoption papers.

“I know about birthdays,” Damian rolls his eyes. “I don’t see why there should be a fuss made about it on the other hand.”

“You’re supposed to get people presents on their birthdays.” At Christmas too, she recalls from Tim and Steph’s explanations, but she could save that for when it was Christmas time. “It’s a celebration of their life.”

Damian snorts as he drinks from his own water bottle. “So you want me to distract Todd then? Or will you be sending me into town?”

“No, I’ll go.” It’s perhaps a risk, but she wants to get out of the house too, interact with people who aren’t Jason and Damian. If she goes early enough she should avoid any possibilities of a rage. “Was thinking I’d get a cake, not sure about a present yet.” Perhaps a book? Sometimes as she drifted out of her rages she’d become aware that Jason was reading to her.

“I doubt any cake in town will be equal to Todd’s baking skills.” Cass bites back a smile, the fact that Damian’s _complimenting_ Jason is a big step, but she won’t make a big deal out of it. “As for presents, perhaps a sense of class?”

She whaps Damian lightly on the back of the head.

He glowers but doesn’t say anything. “Again?” she arches an eyebrow and tilts her head towards the ring.

“You’re on Cain.”

-

Jason can’t quite believe that _Damian_ dragged him, and the kittens, to the lake at far to early in the morning, for _art_.

“You should be honored Todd,” Damian sniffs. “I don’t just draw _anyone_.”

Cass would be proud that Jason holds off on the snippy comments. Granted the fact that it's Damian who suggested this outing is kind of a big deal, as annoying as it is. So Jason'll do his best to play nice. And it _is_ kind of nice to just be outside for a while and not have to worry too much about Cass, or Damian. "So how'd you want me then?"

Damian huffs. “I don’t care, whatever’s comfortable.”

Jason really should’ve guessed.

-

Cass walks out of the store, small bag in hand. Cake order’d been placed, now she only has to think of a gift.

Something he’d like obviously, but something he liked that hearkened to the past? Or to what the future might be?

Putting her bag in the truck she started wandering around Main street—Damian had texted her, Jason well and good distracted so she had a few hours at least. The bookstore was her first stop, but nothing really caught her eye. Jason was such a voracious reader that he’d pretty much read anything, and nothing jumped out at her as meaningful.

There’s a temptation to buy the leatherbound edition of Sherlock Holmes they had, even if it’d been Bruce’s favorite, not Jason’s. They haven’t talked about it but she finds herself wanting to remind Jason of what Gotham could give them. She might not be out of the clear yet, and she has no idea how everyone will receive them—or even if she could be forgiven for what she’s done—but she wants to go _home_.

She also doesn’t want to do it without Jason, or Damian.

Sighing she puts the book back and instead picks up the large sketchbook that was part of the deal she’d made with Damian. Leaving the shop she continued searching.

If she’d had more time maybe she could have commissioned something from one of the bronze foundries in town. Too little, too late on that front however, even if it would be entertaining to see Jason’s reaction to a bronze robin statue.

After another two hours of wandering Cass is about to give up. She feels like she’s been up and down Main Street three times, with occasional detours to side streets, and nothing’s really caught her eye. With a sigh she goes back to the truck and points it towards the house.

A minute later she’s pulling off the street again, a jewelry shop managing to catch her eye.

Jewelry had never really been her thing, but she has fond memories of Steph dragging her on various shopping trips. She’s not sure if it’s really Jason’s thing either, but it’s worth a look around.

Inside everything’s bright and glittery, her fingers run along the corner of a display case as she looks at the rings in it. Most of them are highly impractical from a fighting standpoint, and none of them seem very Jason-ish either.

“Do you need help finding anything ma’am?” She tilts her head up to see a man about her age standing on the other side of the counter, pleasant smile on his face and a body radiating friendliness.

“I’m looking for something for my boyfriend,” she’s had too much training to trip over the lie. Even if it reminds her that she and Jason are in something of a gray area and she doesn’t know if she wants more or not.

The young man, his name tag reads Tony, smiles. “Going to propose?”

Cass finds it hard not to laugh at the question, instead she makes herself shake her head. “Birthday,” she clarifies.

“Well do you have any ideas for what he might like?” There’s an air of disappointment to Tony over her answer, but she doesn’t let it bother her too much.

“Birds,” it’s perhaps not as confident as an answer as she’d like to give but it’s all she’s got. “No rings though.”

“Sure thing,” He tilts his head to the left. “We’ve got a good collection of bracelets and necklaces over here.”

He’s not lying, the amount of choice almost staggering. Most of them she can ignore, but he pulls out a few trays from their cases. “This’d be most of our bird stuff, unless you want me to pull out earrings too?”

She shakes her head. “Doesn’t have his ears pierced,” she answers. For a moment grief threatens to overwhelm her, but she shakes it off as best she can. This isn’t the time or place for Kon. She focuses instead on the jewelry. Most of the bracelets have been done up to look like feathers, or bird feet. The detailing is impressive and she finds herself trailing a finger over a bracelet that looks like a peacock feather.

They might look good, but like the rings, none of them really speak to her. Turning to the necklaces she hopes for better luck.

There are some feathers, and bird legs here as well. Full birds too: eagles, crows, owls; some holding gems in their talons, some spread out in flight. Pretty, but also not right.

Her attention flits to the last tray. At once she finds herself more interested in these than any of the others. Bird skulls, or at least metal simulacra of them. A few even have gemstones for eyes, glittering almost balefully in the light. She finds herself picking one of the bigger ones up, the weight’s solid, she imagines you could do some damage with this alone.

“That one’s a rook,” Tony supplies. At her look his expression grows a little sheepish. “Or at least that’s what I’ve been told. The lady who makes them is an ornithologist too, so they’re supposed to be super accurate.”

Interesting. She sets the rook skull back down. “Are any of these robins?” It perhaps might be too on the nose, but Cass finds she can’t quite help herself.

“Uh, yeah.” She finds herself holding back a smile as Tony lifts up the tray, peering at what’s likely labels underneath. When he sets the tray down he points at two different skulls. “These ones’re robins.”

The rook one had been made out of silver, but these two look more like weathered bronze. She picks one up. Lighter than the rook skull had been, but it’s got some good weight to it. Reaching out she picks up the second as well, this one has gemstones for eyes, fiery red-orange ones. “What’s the stone?”

“Mandarin garnet,” he answers. “It’s not often used in jewelry, which is a shame because the color’s impressive.”

He’s not wrong. She stares at the two skulls closely, as if they’ll somehow impart some great wisdom upon her. No such luck, with a faint huff she sets the gemless one down. “I’ll take this one.” She just hopes Jason’ll like it.

-

Damian sighs and rolls his eyes at Todd’s sleeping form. Even with his show if displeasure he finds himself doing a rough sketch. The book covering Todd’s face makes him more surrealist than Damian’s usual style, but it’s a good challenge of sorts.

As he sketches his head bobs along to the music Todd started playing from his phone soon after they settled it—Nine Inch Nails, Todd had told him when he finally asked. Much like his cooking his tastes in music is...acceptable, even if Damian prefers classical. Sketch finished he gives it a critical look. It’s perhaps a bit rushed, but it’s not as if Damian’d planned on going through any great effort for this...distraction.

He hopes Cain follows through on her part of the bargain however, because these are his last two pages in this sketchbook.

His own phone buzzes, and a glance tells him it’s a text from Cain. _Done and home_.

Good.

Putting away his supplies Damian stands and goes to Todd, kicking him lightly in the side. “Wake up Todd, it’s almost noon.” A decent excuse for them to start heading back to the house. Todd seemingly intent on cooking every meal.

Todd’s whole body gives a sort of shake. “Huh-wha?” If this were Damian’s only data point he wouldn’t believe anyone who told him this was Batman’s second protege. Granted as proteges went Todd was a failure, he’d _died_ after all. Once Damian took up the mantle he’d show all the previous, inferior, Robins how it was done. Lifting the book off his face Todd blinked. “Jesus, did you really let me fall asleep?”

Shrugging Damian starts gathering up the kittens. “I’ve been assured numerous time that my elders need all the sleep they can get,” there’s perhaps not as cutting an edge as their could be.

“Yeah, yeah,” Todd carefully puts his bookmark in before sitting up. “When you get my age you’ll definitely realize how great sleep is.”

Damian doubts it. “Cain’s probably impatient for lunch.” He scoops Alexander up and fights back his smile when the kitten leaps from his arms up to his head, settling into his hair. He finds Ophilia last, somehow nestled inside his supply case.

“Ha, that just means you’re hungry too.” Todd scoops up Desdemona, Lady Macbeth, and Lucien. “Come on then,” he starts heading back to the house. “Was thinking quesadillas.”

“Todd, I can go two days without food and still be in peak fighting condition.” Scooping up his supplies and kitten he jogs to catch up—why did Todd have to be so damn tall?

Todd rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but why would you want to?”

-

Jason wakes up slowly. Twisting under the sheets he’s surprised to find he’s alone. It might’ve been the best 24 hours they’ve ever had—no rages, not even a burst of some other emotion—but Cass tended to sleep in most days anyways. He gives a tentative sniff,  he doesn’t smell anything burning. Maybe Cass’d done the smart thing and stuck with cereal.

As he gets up he finds himself checking his phone, he knows there won’t be anything yet still he does it.

 _Oh_.

It’s his birthday. He’d completely forgotten it was coming up.

Nineteen.

He’s not _exactly_ surprised he made it to nineteen, although with what could be considered his current occupation...and how fucked up is his life that he’s surprised to be in his last teen year?

He should’ve started prep for French toast. That’d always been Alfred’s birthday treat, French toast with a tooth-rotting amount of sugar in it, then a birthday cake later; and not a glower from Bruce over the amount of sugar consumed.

Anger and nostalgia war inside him as he dresses and makes his way downstairs. “Cass? Damian?” Lucien yowls and Jason looks down at the kitten. “What? Damian fall down the well?” He snorts at his own joke. Scooping Lucien up he heads to the kitchen, he doesn’t hear movement in the dojo, but the both of them could be outside.

He gets to the kitchen and…

“Happy birthday!” He blinks as Cass throws a handful of confetti in his face as she crows.

She elbows Damian, who makes a face. “Yes, happy birthday Todd.” Jason’s touched.

There’s a cake on the table, nineteen candles flickering, and a wrapped present next to it. “Make a wish and blow out your candles,” Cass reminds. As if Jason’d forgotten. Granted he hasn’t exactly been in the habit of celebrating birthdays since he came back.

Jason stares at the candles, not knowing what the hell he should wish for. Oh, the Joker’s head on a platter might be a good one. Yet even though Jason’s definitely going to still kill the bastard, doesn’t feel right to wish that. As weird as it sounds. Inhaling he gives himself an internal shake, just some good things, he thinks. Some good things would be nice.

Exhaling he manages to get all the candles in one breath.

Cass smiles and Jason finds it warms something in his chest. “Open your present and I’ll cut cake.”

“Oooo cake for breakfast,” Jason finds himself grinning, shifting his hold on Lucien as he picks the small box up. He gives it a shake, something inside rattles, but not enough to tell him _what._

“Eugh,” Damian makes a face and goes to the cupboards. Grabbing his granola and a bowl. More cake for Jason then.

Carefully Jason cuts through the tape he’d always enjoyed savoring unwrappings—it helps that he’s got limited use of one hand. Letting the paper hit the table he stares at the cardboard box, as if he’ll suddenly develop x-ray vision. “Open it,” Cass chides as she puts a plate full of cake in front of him.

Jason sticks his tongue out at her. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got a cat to juggle you know.” Although Lucien seems fine with being held in one arm.

“Honestly the two of you are like children sometimes,” Damian grouses between bites.

Jason’s feeling too nice to dignify that with a response. He does take the lid off however, staring at the necklace resting on the cotton batting.

“If you don’t like it I can take it back,” Cass looks almost shy as she talks. “I just thought it might be something you’d appreciate.”

The red-orange gemstones in the eye sockets of the bronze bird skull glitter as Jason lifts the necklace up. He’d never really thought himself a jewelry guy before, but there’s a sort of delightful gruesomeness to this that he appreciates. He’s the only Robin to have ever actually died after all, a bird skull’s appropriate. “Thanks Cass.” He slants a smile at her. “Help me put it on?” He’d managed opening just fine, but putting the necklace on would take more movement than he can manage without dropping Lucien.

She slants a smile at him too, although there’s something more to hers Jason feels. “Alright.” She takes the necklace from him and he bends his head down for her as she unlatches it.

The chain’s cool against his neck as she wraps it around, her calloused fingers catching against his skin as she latches it on. The skull itself rest against the top of his sternum, the weight noticeable now, but Jason can see himself forgetting about it soon. “Thanks.”

Her hand rests atop the skull for a few seconds, warm against the cold. “You’re welcome.” She rises up onto her tiptoe and gives him a brief kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this](https://www.etsy.com/shop/mrd74/items?section_id=22992249) is the Etsy shop that inspired Cass' birthday present, they don't offer gemstone eyes, but they're still pretty cool. [Mandarin garnets (or spessarite garnets)](http://www.palagems.com/spessartite-buying-guide/) are beautiful gems that range from orange to red-orange, and in my book are pretty beautiful.
> 
> BTW if you ever do end up in Joseph I'd definitely recommend a tour of one of the bronze foundries, it's super interesting.
> 
> ~~also vaguely off topic but damn what a time to be alive. DC shows us Bruce's dick and instantly regrets it. That's what you get for ruining the batcat marriage assholes.~~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for some graphic self-harm thoughts, if you want to avoid just skip the paragraph after Jason's carrying Cass downstairs.

Cass lays awake, staring up at the ceiling, next to her Jason snores softly. In the back of her mind she can feel the rage bubbling, ready to overflow. She’s got a few moments left before it truly takes hold, a few seconds to think before she wakes Jason.

The kiss had taken him more aback than anything else, even if he’d tried to hide it. Granted she’s just as confused as he is on the whole subject.

Before when she’d had only cold clarity and ruthlessness she’d thought to use sex to make him attached to her, make him easier to sway to her side, eventually use him to help produce children.

Now she’s a seething mass of emotions as it were and some of them seem to like Jason and yet she’s afraid. Afraid of how he’ll respond if she tells him, afraid he’d say no. Afraid he might say yes. Sighing she rolls over onto her side and stares at him.

With another sigh she knees him in the side—he has a tendency to sleep deeply, which seems like a detriment when you’re an assassin. “Nyu-ah. Cass?” Sleepy eyes blink at her, like this he _does_ look all of nineteen, no weight of looking after her and Damian weighing on him.

“It’s happening.” No need to elaborate there.

Jason pushes himself upright. “Damn and here I”—he yawns—“thought we’d set a new record.” Twisting he scoops her up, she’s still in control enough that she goes, not fighting as his grip adjusts to keep her from using her arms or legs.

He carries her downstairs and towards the room. Her arms and legs are bound but she’s still got a mouth, she does her best to twist to sink her teeth into him. The pain’d be enough to shock him into letting her go, then it would be easy enough to take him out. Damian would be even easier, the poor boy still fast asleep. He wouldn’t even know he’s dying.

Then there’d only be her left. Her and her bloodstained hands. Hands that didn’t deserve to _be_ anymore. Hmmm, if she cut one off how’d she cut off the other? Jason kept the knives sharp enough, but perhaps using the blender or garbage disposal would be easier.

 _Click, click_.

Her whole body starts, even through the fabric softening them the manacles are cold. She snarls, trying to throw her weight enough to use her legs properly. But even though she can read his every move clear as day he’s got far more weight and leverage on her.

 _Click, click_ go the ones around her legs.

Knowing that it’s useless she still struggles. “I’m going to kill you,” she hisses. “Gut you then use your intestines to strangle the br-mmhp!” The gag he shoves into her mouth cuts her off. Then comes the blindfold, and as the soft darkness settles around her Cass gives in.

-

Jason juggles grocery bags as he reaches the front door. It doesn’t _quite_ take all of his Robin and assassin training to get the door open, but it’s a near thing. Clearly an impressive act worthy of admiration. To bad no one else saw it.

“Groceries,” he calls out. He does the shopping, but it’s everyone’s job to put away.

Damian’s sigh comes from the living room, followed by a kittenish yawl of displeasure at being moved.

“Where’s Cass?” He sets the bags on the counter, deciding to follow Cass’ lead on no making a big deal over Damian helping more with only minimal prompting. He’ll get the last three bags in a sec, but he wants to hear Damian’s answer first.

“She’s in her room,” Damian answers as he grabs veggies out of the bag to put in the fridge.

Jason nods. “Good job on taking care of it yourself.” Even if Jason’s cursing himself slightly for not being there to help—it’d been almost three days since her last episode, he’d thought things were finally starting to look up. Damian shouldn’t have to deal with it on his own.

“It wasn’t that hard,” Damian harumphs. “I used one of the nerve pinches she taught me after I managed to fend her off.”

Shaking his head Jason holds in a snicker of laughter. Luckily he doesn’t have to hide his expression too, what with going outside to finish grabbing groceries.

The two of them finish up in silence. Damian returning to the living room to continue with his book, Jason heading back off towards the room to check on Cass.

He stares at her from the door for a second, blinking and rubbing his eyes to make sure he hasn’t imagined it. Closing the door behind him Jason goes back to the living room. “What the hell happened to Cass’ hair?”

“I found her cutting it in the bathroom,” Damian shrugs. “I didn’t think anything of it until she saw my reflection in the mirror and attacked me with the scissors.”

“You okay?” Jason also forces himself to let out a slow breath. Honestly on the scale of things that’ve happened this isn’t the worst. Hell, not even top twenty.

“Yes,” Damian huffs. “I’m _fine_.” Alex hops from the back of the couch onto Damian’s shoulder. He hisses as the kitten moves down to his lap.

Jason leans against the arm of the couch and arches his eyebrow, doing his best to exude an air of patience expectancy.

For about a minute Damian stubbornly focuses on his book—Jason hasn’t exactly failed to notice that it’s really _his_ book and Damian’s just ‘borrowing’ it, expanding the kid’s taste is all for the better—Alex settling into his lap with a purr. “Alright fine,” Damain grouses. “She got me in the shoulder, but I put antiseptic on it and bandaged it already. So there’s no need for you to brood like a hen Todd.”

Ha, bird metaphor, Dick’d love that. Jason shakes his head. “Still want to take a look at it,” he insists. If only so he can assure Cass later that it’s nothing.

Damian looks like he’s going to protest, but he gives an exaggerated sigh, puts his bookmark in, and scooping up Alex, stands. “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”

The bathroom’s still a bit of a mess, probably too much to ask that Damian’d cleaned it up, hair scattered about the place. Jason clears off the counter as best he can. “Hop on up, take your shirt off.” Opening the doors above the cabinet he pulls out the first aid kit.

The gauze Damian’d taped to his shoulder is half red with blood. Carefully Jason pulls the tap away, staring at the wound he finds. “Dude, definitely need stitches.” It’s pretty deep, even with stitches it’s likely to scar. Opening up the kit he pulls out latex gloves and the sealed packets that have needle and thread in them, along with the anesthetic spray.

Damian surprisingly doesn’t answer as Jason sprays the wound then puts on the gloves and threads the needle. “No protesting that you’re fine?” Jason hasn’t done this himself in a while, but patching wounds is like riding a bike.

A harumph as Jason starts the actual stitching. “You’d do it anyways even if I did.” Damian’s petting Alex, but thankfully with the uninjured hand. “This way it’s over with quickly.”

Jason snorts. “As bizarre as it sounds it’s okay to admit you’re human Damian.” There is perhaps a sort of irony that it’s him who says it. After all he’d protested more than once that being Robin meant he was exempt from such things as injury checkups and sleeping—oh had Alfred had a field day on Bruce in regards to that one.

“You’re right, I _am_ human, but mother made me better. Made sure I would be unmatched.” A note of brokenness sort of ruins the haughtiness of the rest of it.

“Miss your mom too brat.”

-

Cass does her best to keep still as Jason runs his fingers through her hair. “Alright, I’m no barber, but I at least made it look like it wasn’t all hacked off.”

She sighs. “Thanks.”

Jason steps from her side to in front of her. “Not that this has any actual bearing on what you do with your hair. But I gotta say I think I like you better with short hair.”

She finds herself running one of her own hands through it. It hasn’t been this short in a long while. Using Jason, she lifts herself up enough to stare at her reflection in the mirror. It’s almost staggering how much like Batgirl she looks now—the real Batgirl, not that one she’d been under Slade’s control.

A soft, exasperated noise leaves her. Jason makes a questioning sound and she finds herself burying her face in his shoulder to muffle her laugh.

“Come on you.” He scoops her up with ease. “Think it’s time for bed for the both of us.”

Her head turns just enough that she can rest it on his shoulder. “What do you want to be Jason?”

The only answer she gets for the next few minutes is silence as they get ready for bed. After they settle under the covers Lady and Des join them, Des curling up on Jason’s chest and Lady settling in the crook of Cass’ knees. “I don’t even know anymore Cass.”

In the darkness she nestles closer to him under the sheets. As has become his habit his arms wrap around her, surrounding her in warmth. Without thought she finds herself kissing his shoulder. “I don’t know either.”

-

Violet gives a grateful groan as she steps into her crappy New York apartment. She toes her shoes off while she uses her shoulders to close her door. That done she staggers to her ratty couch and falls into it, groaning again into the cushion.

Turning her head she stares at her poster of Rodin’s _The Kiss_. “I’m sorry to tell you this,” she pitches her voice higher, bordering on mincing. “But by putting ice in your organic coffee it’s not organic anymore.”

A sound between exasperation and anger leaves her. “I wanted to,” her voice goes back to normal. “Well I wanted to throw...eh, you know who at that damn woman. Maybe then she’d understand that water, by it’s very damn nature can never be organic.” Another groan. “Definitely the sort of woman who’d buy that three hundred dollar jade egg and stick it up her vagina thinking it’ll cleanse her chakras or whatever that bullshit is. Just do kegels like the rest of us damn it.” Tirade done she falls silent.

“I miss Gotham,” she says a few minutes later. It’s not as if this sentiment is a new one however. Maybe it’s time for her to go back, and damn the consequences.

Her phone gives a ‘someone did something on Twitter’ chime. After a bit of contortionism she gets her phone out. “Oh great and magical phone, bless me with your notifications.” Twitter, games, games, games, missed call, Twitter again, text from Anthony wondering about another date, voicemail, missed call...voicemail?

Opening her phone she brings up her voicemail. She doesn’t recognize the number, but knows it’s an Oregon area code at the beginning. “Who wants to bet it’s all silence? Or the police saying they have a warrant out for my arrest? Or that I’ve won a cruise? Anyone?”

She gives a snort for her own poor attempt at humor. Turning the speakerphone on she hits play.

“Hello Violet, my name’s Jace Mackleroy. We don’t know each other personally, but we share a mutual history of night work in Gotham.” Eyes widening Violet finds herself frozen. “If you’re starting to panic, relax. I’m not here to try and threaten, or blackmail you, in fact I’m calling on behalf of a mutual friend of ours.” There’s a second of silence, even with this ‘Jace’s’ assurance Violet isn’t feeling too reassured. “Well alright, she’s your friend, honestly I don’t know what the hell she and I are.” Funnily enough that relaxes Violet more than anything. “Anyways. A while back she and I talked and she mentioned she missed you and I’ve decided to finally do something about it.

“In a few days you should get an envelope with some plane tickets, the address where we’re at, and a photo. It’s your choice whether you come or not, but I hope you do. If you do decide to come I’d like it if you could text me at this number letting me know. That way the brat and I can let you two have your reunion in peace. Hope to hear from you soon Steph.”

Her phone falls from her hands and lands on her chest, the pain barely worth noting over the chaos going on in her mind right now.

Someone knew. Someone knew she’d once been Stephanie Brown, daughter of a z-list villain and erstwhile Spoiler and Robin. Someone’d managed to figure out what even Batman couldn’t and they only got in contact with her for a ‘friend’?

Picking up her phone she listened to the voicemail a second time, and a third. Straining to see if there was anything that gave this Jace away, some vocal tick, or background noise. No such luck of course.

Closing her phone she sighed up at her watermarked ceiling. “Am I just being Bruce levels of paranoid? Or is there really something I’m missing?” A sigh. “Guess I’ll find out.”

The next few days aren’t exactly harrowing, but she does find herself jumping at the occasional shadow. Probably not good for her in the long run, but she’ll live.

Then, just like Jace’d said, she gets an envelope in the mail. She’s paranoid enough that she finds herself grabbing gloves out of her first aid kit—Tim’d once told her about an old case where Scarecrow dosed good luck cards with fear gas then mailed them out to sports stars in order to rig games.

Handwriting on the back of the envelope doesn’t give her much, other than whomever wrote it went through the trouble of printing her address, but freehanding his own. Turning it back over she stops putting it off and opens the damn thing.

What she sees first are the plane tickets, round trip from La Guardia to Portland International, hour layover before another flight from PDX to a place called Joseph. Tossing them on her counter she pulls out the rest of the contents. The photo’s been folded up, so she inspects the address first, it’s also in Joseph, which meant if she did go she’d only have to figure out a way from the airport to the house.

Not that she’s decided to go, but it’s good to know.

Dropping the address she unfolds the photo.

Just like a few days ago she finds herself freezing a she looks at it, the photo slipping from her suddenly unresponsive fingers.

The kid in the corner of the photo she doesn’t recognize, must be the ‘brat’ Jace had mentioned in his voice mail, but the subject.

Cass.

Cass with her short hair and bittersweet but happy smile. Cass with a kitten on her lap and a twinkle in her eye.

Next to Tim, Cass is the one Steph’s missed the most, and she’s just...being handed to Steph on a platter, sort of. It’s no longer starting to feel like a trap, but some sort of joke. Because this shouldn’t be real. Steph hasn’t exactly been keeping up with the hero crowd, but she’d noticed over the past few years a distinct lack of Batgirl in Gotham’s news. And unlike Steph, Bruce was too enamored with what Cass could do to even think of revoking _her_ claim to the name.

Granted Steph didn’t blame him. Cass’ amazing. A chick couldn’t ask for a better friend.

It just can’t be that easy to see her again. Can it?

-

Cass knows something’s up when she’s the last one up in the morning.

Jason’s putting batter of some sort in the fridge, and Damian’s washing his cereal bowl in the sink.

Cocking her hip and crossing her arms Cass stares at the both of them. “What?” They can try, but she knows they won’t be able to hide much from her.

An easy smile crosses Jason’s face as he walks up to her. “Morning.” He bends down to kiss the top of her head. Things like that have grown more frequent since his birthday, Cass is sure they’ll eventually have to _talk_ about it. “Damian and I’re heading out for the day. Think you’ll be fine on your own?”

Everything about that’s a little surprising, for various reasons. “Where?” A good first question, because this is the first she’s hearing about any sort of outing.

“Hell’s Canyon,” Damian answers as he crouches down to feed the kittens. “Todd assures me I’ll enjoy white water rafting.” Jason’s probably right, but still…

“Why not bring me too?” They’re allowed to do things on their own, but she admits she thinks it’d be fun to do something like that. It also brings up more unpleasant memories of being left behind while Bruce, Dick, and Tim had their...bonding year.

Concern flashes through Jason. “I’ll bring you day after tomorrow if you really want to go. This is just...a last minute guys thing. Promise we’ll be back later and I’ll make chicken and dumplings for dinner.” He means it, and he’s telling the truth, but there’s also something that he’s hiding.

She finds herself suddenly tired, too many secrets still between all of them and she _hates_ it. The feeling doesn’t fade when Jason gives her a big hug. “Sorry we didn’t tell you about this earlier Cass. Make it up to you I swear.”

“Go,” she sigh. “Have fun.”

Jason kisses the top of her head again and let’s her go. “Come on Damian, losing daylight.”

Damian rolls his eyes, but scoops up the two water bottles and hats off the counter as he follows Jason out the door.

Cass decides there’s something strange about being able to be alone again. Her rages are every three or so days now, Jason and Damian can _do_ things like this and not worry a moment about her. They could all start living something approaching a normal life—if the lives of three people like them could ever be ‘normal.’

A slight weight presses into her knee, when she looks down she sees Luci, who yowls at her. “Damian’s not here,” she tells him with a sigh. Reaching down she scoops him up. “It’s just me and the rest of you lot.”

Opening the fridge she turns the container holding the batter Jason’d made. For the dumplings? Except it looked too lumpy and didn’t appear to have any herbs in it at all. Probably for some pastry then. Jason seems to be pushing himself to make more and more things she and Damian’ll like—although much like Jason she’s spent enough time on the streets that she’ll eat almost anything put in front of her.

Closing the fridge she wanders over to the living room. She could watch TV, she could read a book, hell she could take a walk to the lake and have a swim. It wouldn’t be white water rafting, but this late in August it’d feel nice all the same.

“What do you think?” She looks down at Luci. “Do you think you and your siblings could survive an hour without people?” Damian’d probably say no, but it’s also probably a good thing to instill _some_ sort of independence in cats.

Luci doesn’t answer, just tries to shove his face into her armpit.

With something like a fond sigh she drops him and heads upstairs. She doesn’t actually have anything close to a swimsuit, but decent underwear and bra should be fine. As she heads back downstairs to grab a towel there’s a knock on the door.

Instead of the bathroom she makes a stop in the kitchen, grabbing the paring knife. She and Jason have both agreed that if Slade’s people had already discovered where they were they’d’ve attacked by now. It also doesn’t hurt to be careful.

There’s a certain amount of irony that a house that Bruce Wayne owns doesn’t have a peep hole in the door.

Bracing the knife’s spine against her forearm she opens the door.

“Hi! I’m pretty sure I have the right…”

Steph falls into the same stunned silence that Cass now inhabits. The two of them staring at each other and staring, and staring.

The knife in Cass’ hand clatters to the floor, breaking the silence—Jason won’t be too happy if the blade’s damaged, but she’s sure he’ll understand.

They’re hugging, and crying, and Cass just...well she just _feels_.  Everything and anything crashing around inside her. It’s exhausting but oh, Steph is here and that makes everything better. “Oh my”—a stream of wet hiccups—“God. You’re really alive. I’ve fucking missed you so damn much Cass.” Steph squeezes tighter.

Cass can’t even answer, still crying and clinging for all she’s worth.

After what feels like forever Steph pulls away, still sniffling and her eyes are red from crying, but the smile on her face is unmistakable. “So I’m a mess. How about you?”

A broken but happy laugh leaves Cass. “Things,” she walks backwards, pulling Steph inside. “Things’ve been worse. How’d you find me?” She’d always thought, perhaps when her position in the League was more secure, she’d find Steph. Yet here her best friend’s somehow come to her.

“I got this call a few days ago from this guy named Jace, he’s the one who arranged all this.” Steph’s stomach growls, and she turns pink. “Uh, sorry. Didn’t have a whole lot to eat on the plane. Super nervous.”

Jason? Cass almost starts crying again. Crying and laughing because no wonder he’d been so cagy this morning if he knew this was going to happen. Steph’s comment reminds her of what’s in the fridge and she finds herself smiling at Jason’s thoughtfulness. “There’s waffle batter in the fridge.”

Steph’s smile could replace the sun. Bounding past Cass she goes into the kitchen. “Waffles and catching up! Please tell me there’s booze, mimosas and waffles and catching up sounds even better.”

Shaking her head Cass joins Steph. “No alcohol.” It had never seemed like a good idea considering. “Do have orange juice though.”

“Fine, it’ll have to do. So,” Steph bumps her hip with Cass’ as they set up. “What’s all been going on in the life of Cass Wayne, huh? How’s my favorite Batgirl?”

For the next hour all they do is talk and eat, sharing the past three years with each other, yet it seeming as if no time at all has passed between them. It’s, it’s nice. And neither of them mention when the other starts crying again.

After they clean up the kitchen the two of them curl up on the couch. It’s surprising how lonely Cass hadn’t known she’s been up until now. In a way it only makes her more resolved to go back home.

Des, Lady, and Luci join them. Steph starting in surprise at the appearance of the cats. “We have five,” she confides.

“Wow, color me suitably impressed.” Steph reaches out and tentatively scratches at Lady, who meows and shoves her head into Steph’s hand. A smile crosses Steph’s face as she pet Lady. “You’re a very nice kitty. Do you ever miss it?” The questions directed at Cass, not Lady.

Granted Lady’d have a hard time answering. Cass herself gives a sort of sigh, Luci’s settled on her hip and Des her chest, so she’s well and truly trapped for the moment. “Sometimes,” she admits. “But...What I’ve done the past few years…”

“Against your will,” Steph interjects, fierce light in her eyes.

“Against my will,” Cass agrees. “It’s still done though.” She’s broken her code so many time’s she’s not sure she can ever go back the way she was. “So I miss it, but I don’t think I could be Batgirl anymore, I’ve...tainted her too much.” She finds herself lacing a hand with one of Steph’s, squeezing her fingers tight. “She needs someone else to make her right.” She arches a questioning eyebrow.

“ _Me?_ ” Steph doesn’t quite shriek it, but surprise is everywhere on her body. “I know you don’t really joke, but this feels like you’re joking and ohmigod! Yes!” Lady, clearly perturbed by the sudden excitement, hops over Cass and onto the floor. “What about Barbara?” Steph’s excitement doesn’t go away, but it does dim some.

Cass gives the best shrug she can. “She gave the uniform to me, to do what I wanted. If I wanted to give it to you she can’t really do anything about it. Except maybe train you.”

“Now _that_ I haven’t missed.” Steph sighs. “I _have_ been thinking about moving back recently. Which I’m pretty sure means they’re legally allowed to commit me to Arkham when I do.” She gives a brief laugh.

A sigh leaves Cass.

“Bad joke I know,” Steph waves it off. “Alright, back to more important things. Who the hell’re Jace and the kid? I feel I’ve been infinitely patient about asking it.”

Now Cass’ is the one who laughs. “You have,” Cass expected it to be one of the first questions Steph asked. “Damian...Damian’s Talia’s son.”

Steph’s eyes widen. “Jesus, she deigned to reproduce? You know who the dad is?”

“No,” Cass shakes her head. “If he knows he hasn’t told us,” another secret. Granted it’s a small one, one she’ll let him keep for now. “Did, did Bruce ever tell you about the other Robins?” Steph’d _know_ about them, but not necessarily _about_ them.

“Tim told me more,” Steph rolls her eyes. “But Bruce told me enough, when he tossed me out of the Robin club he said I was too much like Jason.” It’s not quite anger that passes through Steph. “Why?”

Her statement does sort of make Cass shake her head, because he’d told her the same thing. She doesn’t know if it speaks ill of Bruce or not that he sees the one he failed in those that’ve come after—and he did fail Jason, just not in the way Jason thinks he did. “Jace...is Jason. He doesn’t know how, but he came back from the dead five years ago.”

“Holy shit,” it sounds more rote at this point than anything else. “Jesus, heh, perhaps literally.” Cass rolls her eyes. “Since it’d’ve been front page news if Bruce knew he was back I take it something happened?”

So Cass tells that story too, or the parts of it that Jason have told her at least. “He’s still mad at Bruce, wants to kill the Joker.” Cass sighs. “I’m like you, I want to go back home. But…”

“But with Bruce’s usual way of dealing with shit he doesn’t want to hear it’s gonna start world war three in the Wayne family. Yeah,” Steph’s sigh is commiserating. “I do not envy you that clusterfuck.”

Cass punches Steph in the shoulder lightly. “You’re the one who always has good advice.”

“Ha,” Steph’s smile is fond. “I’m glad you think that Cass. This is beyond even my apparently impressive scope however. I don’t know, get Dick and Alfred involved? If anyone’s going to mitigate Bruce it’s them.”

Dick’s never really liked _her_ on the other hand. Yet if he finds out Jason’s alive maybe it would make him more amenable to working with her on Bruce. “Thanks Steph.”

“No problem Cass. That’ll be five cents.”

Cass rolls her eyes. “How about dinner instead. Jason’s making chicken and dumplings.”

Steph laughs. “I mean how can I say no to that?”


	6. Chapter 6

Jason’s grocery shopping, perhaps for the last time in Joseph, minding his own business when he hears brief chatter from the front of the store then the sound of the old CRT TV being turned on.

He doesn’t have to wonder long _why_ it got turned on, Brenda patching it into the PA system and turning it _way_ up.

“This is Cat Grant with GNN. Today the Justice League released their statement about the Darksied attack a few days ago.” Jesus, the things you miss when you purposefully isolate yourself. “In it they confirmed that Batman did indeed die during the attack.”

When Jason’s brains register the words everything goes blank.

He comes to to find himself driving. His heart races and he finds himself quickly pulling over. Fuck, shit. “Fuck!” He slams his hand against the steering wheel. Not the most reckless thing he’s ever done, but it’s a close damn thing.

The pain in his hand reaches his brain and it flips something in him. The next thing he knows he’s curled up against the steering wheel and crying, heaving sobs, body shuddering, the damn fucking works.

It’s useless to protest the fairness of it all, because if there’s one thing Jason’s learned the past three or so years is that the world’s not fair.

Bruce is supposed to still be fucking _alive_! How else is he supposed to prove he’s better than Batman could ever be? Who else can he measure himself against except the second father to fail him? Bruce was supposed to _know_. Jason bites a hand to keep the scream that leaves him muffled.

It hurts, hurts almost as much as getting beaten to death. Just like before he’s helpless to stop it. Sorrow and anger an overwhelming inferno inside him. All consuming and unstoppable.

When the last flicker is gutted he feels hollow and so damn tired, dry and cranky and all he wants to do is go back to the house and curl up in bed and sleep for a goddamn _year_.

Except with two other people, curious people even, he can’t do that.

His body aches as he pushes himself upright. Plan, plan, a plan.

It takes a while, but his empty brain manages something. He can’t let Cass know, she’ll want to go back to Gotham, to _stay_ there. Return to the family and mourn and Jason just _can’t_. If he does that it means giving up the last angry parts of himself, and right now it might be the only thing keeping him standing.

Tell Damian, the brat would only be marginally curious about the whole affair and with the right bribes would help keep it from Cass for as long as possible.

Making it harder would be the fact they were moving soon, too many uncontrollable variables, especially with Jason not on his A game anymore. It had to be done though, it was the middle of September, townsfolk would start to question why Damian wasn’t back in school soon, if they hadn’t already.

Luckily he and Cass’d decided on another equally small town place, granted Bozeman had a university. In their case it meant townsfolk were used to transients who stayed only a year or two before leaving. Easier to move in and then disappear.

Get Damian in with the plan, get them all moved. Maybe Jason could make up a good excuse and find a way to lie with his body to get away for a few days. Find out where the Joker might be and take care of him, even if there was no Batman to lord it over.

He nods. Good, a plan is good.

His hands shake as he starts up the truck again. He starts to drift into autopilot again, but at least this time he’s aware of what he’s doing. Actually looks at the damn road as he drives, the road’s more jittery than usual, shaking like he’s in a damn earthquake. Takes him a few moments to realize _he’s_ the one shaking, not the road.

Christ he needs a cigarette. Hasn’t felt that urge in a good long while.

But if you can’t smoke when your sort-of dad dies when could you?

The house comes into view, almost there.

Okay, deep breaths. Cass’ll know something’s wrong, but he can put her off long enough, long enough to hopefully pick the right words that aren’t lies but aren’t the truth either. It makes him numb to think he’ll be lying to her, even by omission. But he doesn’t trust that she won’t go into some sort of spiral, won’t take this worse because of what she’s been through.

He hates it, but he’ll do it, because her mental well being is more important.

Jason takes his time walking from the truck to the door.

When he opens the door though what he hears makes his stomach sink to the floor.

“...a memorial will be held in Gotham this Thursday at noon, followed by one at the Hall of Justice on Friday at eight AM.”

There goes that plan then. Fuck.

Cass and Damian both turn to look at him. “Bruce is dead,” Cass is crying and she sounds so _broken_. Damn it, this is exactly what he didn’t want to happen. He finds himself praying that this doesn’t make her worse. Things’ve been going so damn well, he doesn’t want them going into a tailspin _now_.

“We’re going to Gotham,” this from Damian of all people.

“No,” Jason answers without thinking.

Cass stands up and he’s not surprised when she pulls him into hugging her, he runs a soothing hand up and down her back. Even through her tears she manages to give him a look. “Jason…”

“No,” he repeats more firmly. “This isn’t what I wanted either Cass, but I’m not sad that he’s dead.” Lies, lies, lies. “He failed me, he failed _you_ when he just let you disappear. As far as I’m concerned it’s good fucking riddance.”

Her eyes harden. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I fucking do Cass.” Anger, anger is good. Warm and comforting against the endless void waiting for him to falter just once.

“Shut up!” Damian doesn’t scream it but it’s a near thing. “Neither...you…” he hisses through his teeth. “I will not hear you speak ill of my father,” he tries for imperious but he sounds about as broken as Cass.

Both he and Cass stare at Damian. He doesn’t know about her but he’s pretty sure he just imagined what he heard. “What?”

Damian draws himself up to his full height. “Bruce Wayne is my biological father. Now that he’s...dead,” Damian’s voice cracks again. “I will _not_ allow you do disrespect him Todd. It speaks poorly of you anyways.”

Jason just barely keeps himself from laughing. It’s easier once Cass pulls away enough to grab Damian and pull him into their hug. Damian sniffles, and embraces Cass at least. Only their family would be fucked up enough that a death would bring them closer.

“We’re going to Gotham,” Cass repeats Damian’s earlier statement.

“Cass…” He looks at her and wonders what she sees. “I...I can’t…” The last five years have been _everything_. Going to Gotham now feels like throwing it all away, even if he does—in the long hours of night—miss Alfred and Dick.

She squeezes him and Damian tighter. “We need to go home. They’ll need us, and we need our family.” Her eyes do something and Jason finds himself uncomfortable as he keeps staring at them. “When the service is over if you want to leave Jason I won’t stop you, but Damian and I will be staying.” She doesn’t sound cold, but _distant_ and just like with her gaze Jason finds it discomforts him.

“Cass…” He falters. Just like before the void consumes him.

Distantly he can feel Cass run her fingers through his hair as he clings to her and Damian. “Shh, shhh. It’s okay Jason,” her voice is a soothing whisper. “I know it hurts, just let it out.”

He doesn’t deserve this and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve her. He hears her say something to Damian, but it’s distant and muffled. She continues to hold him, fingers through his hair, a hand on the back of his neck rubbing circles.

When she does pull away he tries to cling to her, but she’s too agile. A few seconds later Damian takes one of his hands—there’s a flicker of surprise Jason’s sure of it, he just doesn’t know where it is. “Come on Todd,” Damian’s voice is gruff, but there’s a kindness to it.

Despite his protests Jason can’t find it in him to fight as Damian leads him to the truck. “Watch the kittens,” he instructs after Jason takes a seat in the cab. Putting the cat carrier on his lap and opening it before leaving him alone.

Jason stares at the kittens, who seem both nervous and curious about the new space they’re in. Alex leaps to the dashboard, and makes a sound of displeasure when he tries, and fails, to leave through the window. Des climbs up onto his shoulder and headbutts his cheek, purring loudly.

He doesn’t know how much more time passes before Damian and Cass join him in the car. “I can drive,” it’s a half-hearted protest from Damian at best as Cass moves him to the middle.

“No,” she answers softly as she starts up the truck.

Ten minutes later they’re pulling out of Joseph and onto a highway.

Home again, home again, jiggty fucking jig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am working on part three... (this keeps up I'll be done w/ the damn quartet by the end of the year... ) So we'll see how that goes (otoh unlike the past two I don't have a set end for the third one). In the meantime I'm open to chatting on my Tumbrs (and again expect the occasional snippet on my writing Tumblr)!


End file.
